


Consider Humanity

by RobertSaysThis



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Dark, Existential Crisis, Gen, Introspection, Mirrodin | New Phyrexia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 06:11:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15212921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobertSaysThis/pseuds/RobertSaysThis
Summary: Now that Mirrodin has fallen to New Phyrexia, one Phyrexian wonders why it once looked the way it did. What was the function it had for the human race? And what can the Progress Engine learn if it tries to consider humanity?





	Consider Humanity

Translator's note: Translating otherplanar languages is difficult at the best of times, but when it comes to the matter of Phyrexian jokes English simply cannot take the strain. Readers are assured that, while the jokes contained within are shadows of the originals, every effort has been taken to make them as unfunny as is feasibly possible. 

_I have been sloppy of late, and my research has strayed from its true purpose. Gitaxias says that all progress may turn useful in its way, but I suspect even he -when his voice checks on me come blueset- might criticise how far I have gone from where I had intended. I will restart, then; I will wipe my records clean. Today I will again begin my attempt to consider humanity._

_//_

_I have started by untangling what I am intended to do, and what Gitaxias was thinking when he created me. Our dome has a basic understanding of the functions the base creatures of our world fulfilled before we controlled them- the veldaken surveyed the lands, the elves ensured nutrients would spread throughout the globe. Even the trolls (their bones be cursed) stored knowledge of what they laughably considered to be progress. We do not, however, understand the function of the human as it related to old Mirrodin. It is not a cohesive beast, existing in all areas and many forms, and unlike all other semisentient creatures it had no prescribed role in the world. And yet it survived, and it survived well- this bothered our dome, and it troubled Gitaxias most of all. He began to consider that if he was to seek perfection, he could not ignore what lay in the base creatures that littered the land- for it is his intention to seek perfection everywhere, even in a thing as repulsive as the human. My function is to understand, and to aid the progress of Phyrexia. We may yet gain from this unlikely source._

_//_

_“My mortis dog”, I recount to Gitaxias, “has no nose”._

_“You do not have a mortis dog, Nian”, he replies, “for you have no possessions, being a series of mechanical spheres linked together by nervous siphons.”_

_“I am aware of that, my Lord. This is what humans call a joke, which involves suggesting things are the case when they are not. You must ask how my mortis dog smells.”_

_“Oh. Then how does it smell?”_

_"Through a series of nasal ducts running through its distal spine, my Lord!”_

_There is a silence._

_I feel I have some way to go._

_//_

_I am watching a female human as it is broken into its constituent parts for use in an efficient new flooring scheme. Partially I am observing in my capacity as a recording device, but I am also using the opportunity to reflect upon how an intact human might see this process. I have noted the physiological reactions of the species in similar situations, and so duly excrete bile from the appropriate nodes, but it would be remiss to say I feel anything other than mildly wet from the experience. I have observed occasions where efficient use of resources is not renounced by humanity- I understand that some old mountain tribes made good use of enemy bone in building their shelters, while many survivors on the plains now consume their weak as an efficient source of energy. There may be a difference, but I cannot comprehend what it could be._

_//_

_Some time has passed since my last entry- I have been researching an astonishing fact. Apparantly the human is obsessed with the process of its own creation, and may think about it as often as seven revolutions a cycle! I diligently recorded these thoughts in human brains scheduled to be pulped, but soon found the the subject to be somewhat lacking in depth. Are humans merely ecstatic replicators? I imagined so, but listen: they attempt to build themselves even when they lack the parts to do so, beginning the construction process when there is no hope of creating a brand new human. I try to imagine creating an observener without the requisite muscle tissue and draw a blank. I can see how such a strange desire might take seven revolutions a cycle to understand._

_//_

_"Why”, I say to Gitaxias, “Does Mirrodin go hungry?”_

_"Because we have taken all they can eat, Nian. We take their plant matter to feed our vats, and churn their meat into our bodies. Hungry the work of progress is, and mightily our Engine devours.”_

“ _No, my Lord. It is a joke.”_

“ _I see. Then why does Mirrodin go hungry?”_

_"Because it has five suns. Like 'sons,' you see? So it has lots of mouths to feed.”_

_"Phyrexia's five sons”, says Gitaxias darkly, “are why she hungers too.”_

_//_

_I have pondered the process of creation more. I understand why a creator would look after its own creation: it is a blasphemy, yes, but a comprehensible one. What I cannot understand is how a being can swear to defend that creation -in human terms, its child- while defending its society also. For there will be a time when one obstructs the other; I can abandon the vats and newts of an acid-drenched grid to save my own creations, but if I do so I abandon everything but the survival of my own self. Humans, I think, cannot understand that- they see no contradiction in protection of their families and their ideals, and can abandon one to save the other without altering their understanding of the world. Have they seen something Gitaxias cannot? I dare to ask him this when he meets me, and he is silent for a very long time._

_//_

_I am bothered, too, by the concept of “friendship”, a pact between humans built on chance events in the past. I understand, of course, the value of reciprocation- why, merely two cycles ago I traded my distal fin for an injection of glistening oil! To do so in the manner that humans do, however, is something that baffles me greatly. Rather than sensibly terminating a mutual agreement with a human they can no longer benefit from, some humans carry on bestowing them with time and nutrients! The concept is bluntly unphyrexian, but there is worse. I have observed humans side with such “friends” against others both stronger and more worthy of appreciation- often even laying down their lives for them. It is an ideal, perhaps, but it is not one I can comprehend._

_Nevertheless, I have tried to apply the concept to my own existence. Is Gitaxias my friend? I ask him and he stares. “I have no friends, Nian”, he says, “I have the Engine, and I have Progress”. It's the kind of thing he says a lot, these days, and I wonder if my work troubles him more than I had guessed._

_//_

_“I angle my vocal glands at Gitaxias and try to look jaunty. “Ah”, he says in his resigned way. “You have a joke for me, I see.”_

_“Indeed, my Lord!”, I say breezily. “What do you call a compleat marvel made from the bones of a Tel Jihad Stag, whose eyes have been replaced with tendrils of chrome and flesh?”_

_Gitaxias looks quizzical._

_“No eye deer!”, I say. “Because it is a deer, and has no eyes”._

_“Such change we have wrought upon this world”, says Gitaxias after a while, “that we could create such a thing with so little idea of what its purpose would be. Why, our deer with no eyes took the surgeons nineteen cycles to create, and was dead before a single revolution had come to pass. From the experiment we concluded that it was preferable that deer_ should _have eyes, but lately I have come to think that the world had decided this long before we were here. What are we progressing towards, Nian? What if the perfect Phyrexia turns out to be the world we have so recently destroyed?”_

_He stares at me for a while, then clanks away._

_I had thought it was quite a good joke, myself._

_//_

_I have finally found a human attribute that corresponds to the life of at least one Phyrexian: Gitaxias appears to be going insane. He sees me with increasing regularity of late, babbling as he leaks oil from his spine. He approaches now with something of a mad look, and I telepathically feel his mind has come adrift._

_“Hello, my Lord”, I say hopefully. “Would you like to hear a joke?”_

_“A joke?!”, he screeches in every language I understand, “Our work is a joke, Nian! Phyrexia is a joke! Each result I get, each scrap of information I gather, all of it brings the truth home for me to see. We are progressing, yes, but progressing towards oblivion. Our ideas of perfection change, our experimental subjects grow weaker and our rigour decays..."_

_He turns towards me screeching and hissing, and I imagine I feel as a human would as adrenaline surges through my veins._

_“We will eat ourselves, Nian”, Gitaxias says. “We will eat the world. We will grind it down to the smallest parts seeking perfection, and when we have finished we'll grind our instruments down as well. And we'll say we've succeeded...” He wheezes. “I understand what a joke is now, Nian. Phyrexia is a joke. You are, and we are, and I am! A joke, don't you see? The whole thing is a joke! Ha, Nian! Hah and bah! Ahahahahaha!”_

_His head moves to meet my line of sight._

_"Tell me, Nian”, he says, not laughing at all. “Did you discover anything worthwhile from your study of humanity?”_

_“No, my Lord”, I say regretfully. “I did not discover a thing.”_

_“We never could”, says Gitaxias, and plunges his fist towards my life suppor-_

_-spleen quantity critical-_

_-pulse statictatictaticaticattttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt-_

_/LOG TERMINATES/_

Seven of Tenth, Grandcycle One 

I have been considering both the appended writings and my recent conduct, and have found much to be concerned about in each. I am grateful, yes, that my plan proceeded as I had hoped- in the event I learned rather more about both myself and humanity than I had expected was probable. I have perhaps come to see myself as indestructible, however, and I will not make that mistake again. I have realised I am not made of darksteel, and that I can be broken too. 

I now know, though, that some things are least basic to me. When I transferred my own mind into Nian's and the human mind into my form, a part of me had expected I might remain just the same. Only partially so. While much of what I had valued about myself - cunning, ingenuity, perception- appears a function of my compleat body, it seems that my mind remains of some distinction even when transferred to a basic observanator. The human mind, meanwhile, appears puny even when inside a form as great as mine- the experiment confirmed conclusively that it is of no value to us. Give it a palace, and it scrapes at the walls. Ask it to explain itself, and it hides in a corner. I took great pleasure in destroying what remained of the squatter that lurked in me. 

We have learned that we cannot learn anything from the human plague, then, and that Phyrexia is indeed alone in knowing the way. This is good, because this is progress. Progress is how we will reach our goal. 

May the five suns bow to our Engine's might, 

—Jin Gitaxias, Core Augur 


End file.
